Category: Relationships

Who’s in my head?

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Never ceases to surprise me when a client says some version of “last week you said X, and I can’t tell you how much that helped me. As a result, I’ve made shift Y in my thinking/behavior. I feel completely transformed.”

As I try to control any visible chin-drop-mouth-hanging-open expression, I conduct a search of my memory, to retrieve what I thought I said. Too often, I recall nothing. I remember what the client said–just can’t pull up my own words, the nuggets that my client has so eloquently restated and imbued with wise meaning. Maybe I really do deserve the credit. But I think it’s much more likely that my words clicked for the client, activating some inner wisdom based on his/her own experience.

The process of therapy, just like life, is not the same for me as it is for my clients. The way our brains work leads us to believe that everyone around us is experiencing the world in the same way. Think back to the ancient (okay, 1960s) kid game “telephone.” Sitting cross-legged on the floor, the first child whispers a phrase in the ear of the second child, perhaps “dogs don’t bite.” By the time the words have worked their way around the circle, retold through progressive whispers, the phrase has been transformed into “frogs don’t fight” (though often much more hilarious than that meager effort on my part to recreate the process.)

Who is in my head? Only my unique collection of world view, lessons, and beliefs that color my perceptions. I was comparing notes with a friend about our shared yoga class and the passage of time. She related how it drags on and on, with constant clock-watching and exasperated repetition in her head of “aren’t we done yet?” My experience, on the other hand, engaged in one of my favorite activities of the week, is “wow, an hour gone already?”

It’s often a matter of selective attention. We tune into what fits with our internal framework, or the instructions we have, whether from the brain or externally, as illustrated in this fun video:

Consider this with wonder. While we are all connected and share numerous experiences, each moment is processed through the filters of meaning in our heads. There’s no one in my head but me.

Remembering this allows me to extend greater patience and grace with others, rather than frustration over a pile of “shoulds.” Next week, I’ll say more about avoiding the pain and anger of that particular pile of expectations.

On gratitude and great weather

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We hear much about expressing gratitude these days. Everyone from Oprah to Deepak Chopra to research psychologists asserts that taking time to acknowledge, to yourself and to others, the many assets in your life significantly enriches your life. Taking in the good, and thanking others, simply makes us happier, individually and in relationships.

This is always in the back of my mind, and while I may recommend that clients keep a gratitude journal, I simply never have started one myself. Over the last few days, however, there is something about our incredibly fabulous weather here in Dallas that makes me simply brim with appreciation for my life. Maybe there’s some research out there that says cool, windows-open sleeping weather and perfect, sunny days in the low 70s, all against a backdrop of incredibly blue skies and green, lush, blooming trees and grass, contributes to emotional well-being. My personal research project this week, when I’ve spent every available moment either on my back porch, gardening, or parked on a cafe patio, has led to the conclusion that relishing these perfect conditions definitely improves my life satisfaction.

Research states that gratitude works best when it’s a mindset, not a blip on the screen of your life. And this lovely weather and verdant surroundings are a good foundation for my gratitude mindset.

Before it heats up for summer, grab a notebook, get outside for a few minutes, and list what you are grateful for in your life. I’m thankful for my incredible back yard, friends and loved ones to share it, and this great weather, while it lasts. Every day below 80 degrees feels like a gift. What’s on your gratitude list?

Ann’s backyard

Mother’s Day, part 2: The Invisible Mother

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After I did the previous post, my sister-in-law sent me this. Just had to share.

It all began to make sense, the blank stares, the lack of response, the way
one of the kids will walk into the room while I’m on the phone and ask to be
taken to the store. Inside I’m thinking, ‘Can’t you see I’m on the phone?’
Obviously not; no one can see if I’m on the phone, or cooking, or sweeping
the floor, or even standing on my head in the corner, because no one can see
me at all. I’m invisible. The invisible Mom. Some days I am only a pair of
hands, nothing more! Can you fix this? Can you tie this? Can you open this??
Some days I’m not a pair of hands; I’m not even a human being. I’m a clock
to ask, ‘What time is it?’ I’m a satellite guide to answer, ‘What number is
the Disney Channel?’ I’m a car to order, ‘Right around 5:30, please.’

Some days I’m a crystal ball; ‘Where’s my other sock?, Where’s my phone?,
What’s for dinner?’
I was certain that these were the hands that once held books and the eyes
that studied history, music and literature -but now, they had disappeared
into the peanut butter, never to be seen again. She’s going, she’s going,
she’s gone!
One night, a group of us were having dinner, celebrating the return of a
friend from England. She had just gotten back from a fabulous trip, and she
was going on and on about the hotel she stayed in. I was sitting there,
looking around at the others all put together so well. It was hard not to
compare and feel sorry for myself. I was feeling pretty pathetic, when she
turned to me with a beautifully wrapped package, and said, ‘I brought you
this.’ It was a book on the great cathedrals of Europe. I wasn’t exactly
sure why she’d given it to me until I read her inscription: ‘With admiration
for the greatness of what you are building when no one sees.’

In the days ahead I would read – no, devour – the book. And I would discover
what would become for me, four life-changing truths, after which I could
pattern my work: 1) No one can say who built the great cathedrals – we have
no record of their names. 2) These builders gave their whole lives for a
work they would never see finished. 3) They made great sacrifices and
expected no credit. 4) The passion of their building was fueled by their
faith that the eyes of God saw everything.

A story of legend in the book told of a rich man who came to visit the
cathedral while it was being built, and he saw a workman carving a tiny bird
on the inside of a beam. He was puzzled and asked the man, ‘Why are you
spending so much time carving that bird into a beam that will be covered by
the roof, No one will ever see it And the workman replied, ‘Because God
sees.’

I closed the book, feeling the missing piece fall into place. It was Almost
as if I heard God whispering to me, ‘I see you. I see the sacrifices you
make every day, even when no one around you does.

No act of kindness you’ve done, no sequin you’ve sewn on, no cupcake you’ve
baked, no Cub Scout meeting, no last minute errand is too small for me to
notice and smile over. You are building a great cathedral, but you can’t see
right now what it will become.

I keep the right perspective when I see myself as a great builder. As one of
the people who show up at a job that they will never see finished, to work
on something that their name will never be on. The writer of the book went
so far as to say that no cathedrals could ever be built in our lifetime
because there are so few people willing to sacrifice to that degree.
When I really think about it, I don’t want my son to tell the friend he’s
bringing home from college for Thanksgiving, ‘My Mom gets up at 4 in the
morning and bakes homemade pies, and then she hand bastes a turkey for 3
hours and presses all the linens for the table.’ That would mean I’d built a
monument to myself. I just want him to want to come home. And then, if there
is anything more to say to his friend, he’d say, ‘You’re gonna love it
there…’
As mothers, we are building great cathedrals. We cannot be seen if we’re
doing it right. And one day, it is very possible that the world will marvel,
not only at what we have built, but at the beauty that has been added to the
world by the sacrifices of invisible mothers.

Share this with all the Invisible Moms you know… I just did. And remember to COUNT all those zillions of “invisible” tasks you do each day.

Mother’s Day Movie Fun

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Happy Mother’s Day to all my readers!

Mother’s Day videos abound–to enjoy, personalized or not, and share. So I made one for you, my dear readers. I appreciate you all, moms and nonmoms, and hope you enjoy this selection. Pass it on!

JUST FOR FUN!

If you want to make your own, check it out here. There are two more to choose, from one of the funniest shows on TV.

On sharing life’s longest path

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Who learns how to push our buttons (and we theirs) at an earlier age than our siblings? Most of us have family tales like mine. My sister, 21 months older, hit me over the head with a book when she was three because I wouldn’t read to her. I angrily pushed her down the stairs when I was six; I jammed a stitch ripper in her leg when she was twelve after she’d locked me out of the house. These stories survive even while the underlying arguments are long lost to memory. For my daughters, similar rivalry fueled the early years. When friends arrived to ooh and ahh over the new arrival, the older shook the baby’s crib, screaming that she wished the baby had died already. This came after a milder insistence, ignored by me as new mom, that we take the baby back to the hospital.

Time heals, and the bond grows. The older sister I assaulted is the one I’ll jump in the car for at the least provocation, driving five hours to share heartfelt conversation and dinner over a bottle of wine, and breakfast the next day before reversing my route on I-35. Ten hours invested in order to share six. At my younger daughter’s senior recital celebration this month, my older daughter offered a tear-inspiring toast full of praise and love for her sister’s talents.

Siblings, our first chance to learn to relate to others, are the peers we don’t pick to inhabit our lives, unlike spouses and friends. We define ourselves by seizing the open spaces in the family. She’s the cute one? Then I’ll be the smart one. You can’t play the French horn, because I’ve already picked that and want to defend my musical territory. I’ll be the good kid, since you’re the rebel. Degrees of freedom for decisions diminish with number of siblings.

Growing up with three sisters was immersed in camaraderie as well as competition. Melded by moving and month-long family vacations, we had no one but each other. Today, these three women are as important to me as anyone in my life. I live the research that cites the contribution of sisterly conversations to our happiness. During my early years of parenting, I yearned to live closer to my parents, needing their practical support. Now, facing the real permanence of the empty nest as my baby nears college graduation, all I think about is living closer to my sisters. A tough task, given that we’re scattered from Texas to Pennsylvania to Minnesota.

I never missed having a brother, until I realized recently that one dear friend talks daily to her brother who lives several states away. Perhaps I’d understand the opposite sex better if I had a brother to help unravel the curiosities of men (and vice versa, I’m sure.) The male-female relationship of siblings is free of the mess incurred with lovers, the never-ending question of whether men and women can be true friends. What an enviable wonder that would be.

A dear friend lost his brother this week, suddenly, leaving this friend as the sole family survivor. This unexpected death reminded me again of how precious siblings are, and what a hole there will be in my life if I survive my sisters. They are the human beings with whom our lives overlap the most: neither your spouse/partner nor your children share more years of your life. So I was glad to see that a national “Sibling Day” is in the works. The first was celebrated, unbeknownst to me, on April 10. I’m marking my calendar for next year, but meanwhile:

THANKS, SISTERS, FOR ENRICHING MY LIFE–then and now. I’d be lost without you all.

On failing to ask for help

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“I don’t want to bother her.” “I’ll just drag him down.” “It’s my job to be strong.” “I don’t want to be a burden.” “I can do it myself.” Excuses abound for why we fail to ask for help–whether practical pitching in on chores or emotional support that could ease us through a tough spot in our lives. The cultural press, in this nation that so prizes independence, is to do it ourselves in order to not irk or stress others.

What about the flip side? Think about when you are able to support someone who is dear to you. How do you feel when you can listen, give a hug, or lend a hand? There’s lots of research expounding upon the psychological and health benefits of giving to others–in many forms. I’m sure that you are aware of the bonus for you when you help a friend or loved one. You get a little glow, a boost to your own day, from feeling valuable to another.

So next time you find you are shutting down, failing to ask for help or confide to a loved one because you don’t want to “bother” or “stress” them, ask “who says?” Who are you to deprive another of a chance to feel good by helping you? Put yourself in her shoes. For example, I often hear women say “I can’t ask my mother for help–she has so much on her plate.” Then reverse the scenario. If you had a daughter, wouldn’t you want her to ask you for assistance if she needed it? You’d want to be helpful if you could be–every chance!

Of course, when we are asked for help, it’s healthiest to give freely if we’re able–and to speak up honestly if we really can’t step in with an open heart at the moment. No room here for passive-aggressive giving shrouded with anger or resentment. It’s each person’s job to police her own resources, and say “no” if a request is not possible. That’s the job of the person being asked. It’s not for the person in need to ‘prescreen’ and second guess.

Give your loved ones a chance to show love and support–ask for it! Benefits all around will abound.

Take it to heart?

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“Take it to heart.” Usually, we hear this phrase applied to feedback, aka criticism, offered by others. We feel like a bigger person if we can listen openly to negative words from someone. Seems to me to be another of those casual phrases that do us more harm than good and deserve a hearty “who says?” challenge.

Way back in grad school, 30 plus years ago, I learned that feedback is effective only when solicited. It’s pretty hard to take in and process effectively something that we didn’t ask for and probably don’t want to hear. We all do better when we seek information to help us improve, rather than have it foisted upon us, in any of the typical forms: fights with loved ones, criticism disguised as ‘help,’ yearly job evaluations. It seems to me that this phrase, “take it to heart”, runs counter to human nature. The phrase implies that a grown-up wants to listen to feedback. Truthfully, I don’t think many of us really yearn to hear that we need to do something differently–even when we know on some level that we do. And challenging ourselves to “take it to heart” implies that we just need to suck it into our inner most being. We impose an expectation that criticism is always true and valid and valuable.

(That always sounds like an absolute. And if you’re a regular reader, you know my ideas on absolutes.)

My challenge is aimed at that last phrase about criticism. Criticism/feedback may be necessary to growth. But is it always true, valid, valuable? Many of us believe that it is. Rather than “take it to heart,” I suggest “take it to mind.” Don’t just expect that, because you are an adult striving to do your best in life, that you have to accept negative words right into your core. Think on feedback. Evaluate it. Test it out, dwell on the accusations or challenges for awhile. See if the words fit your perception. Write about it. Check it out with a friend or therapist. Where is the truth–the helpful portion of the words? And where is the anger or defensiveness or misperception on the part of the giver? What might have more to do with them, who offer the criticism, and less to do with YOU? Incorporate what is valuable, and let go of the rest.

It’s okay–even extremely healthy–to take some time to sort out what comes your way. You don’t have to “take it to heart” to be a functional person.

A Valentine’s Day reminder

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Happy Valentine’s Day! It’s a holiday–so expectations, ever threatening, ramp up again. Remember the five simple rules of happiness: Rule #5 is “expect less.” Pretty hard to do when every other TV commercial is for diamonds and every other aisle in the grocery store looks like this:

This holiday has the potential to suck us into classic all-or-nothing, black and white thinking (that we humans are so prone to): either my loved one does X, or s/he doesn’t love me. Tuning into the underlying intention is good medicine. Even if your sweetie is not a mind reader, it’s good to embrace whatever is offered. Even this epitome of “less,” an innovation in gift baskets that I’d not seen before (and made me laugh out loud):

Hmmm, what chocolate goes best with beer? Perhaps this chocolate bar with bacon that I recently discovered–downright divine. May the sampling commence.

(And if you’re sweetie-less, challenge the automatic thinking that you deserve a capital L on your forehead. Who says presence of a partner is essential validation of wonderful you? Treat yourself today!)

A New Year’s message–tardy at best

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Happy New Year to all my loyal readers . . .paired with a heartfelt apology about letting this blog drift so far down my ‘To Do’ list. I resolve to write weekly in 2011, as writing this blog is dear to my heart and adds vitality to my life. Back in November, when I was on my writer’s retreat, we did an exercise about archetypes that guide us. One of the cards which I drew reminded me that challenging the status quo, and deeply-ingrained beliefs about same, is an inherent value I hold. Which is, of course, why I launched this blog.

But how to inspire with new thoughts for the new year? I recently stumbled upon a set of silver charms that list five simple rules for happiness. I attached them to my keys, as a daily reminder to incorporate the steps:
1. Free your heart from hatred.
2. Free your mind from worries.
3. Live simply.
4. Give more.
5. Expect less.

Just feeling their weight in my hand reminds me to take a breath and embrace these principles. They’re a lovely example of what I’ve long preached, getting the concepts we want to ingrain in our brains to actually register permanently in our thoughts. Much less messy than Post-it notes.*

Listening to NPR’s Tell Me More this morning on my drive to work, rule #1 jumped out. The shooting of Congresswoman Gabrielle Giffords and others in the Arizona crowd is a tragic example of the need for us all, as #1 says, to ‘free our hearts from hatred.’ The show host,  Michel Martin, and her guest, Representative Paul Grijalva (Democrat, Arizona), addressed the rampant toxic rhetoric in our nation. They called for personal responsibility in returning to true debate about issues, rather than ‘demonizing the other side.’ Rep. Grijalva quoted Rep. Gifford’s, the target victim, i.e. that “words have consequences . . . they have meaning.” You can listen or read the transcript here.

Rhetoric like this is fueled by hatred. Too often, as individuals, we doubt our ability to affect our society or our lawmakers on a wide scale. As I’ve written elsewhere, we suffer from the soft bigotry of low expectations. But I believe, as Michel Martin and Rep. Grijalva point out, that we all can affect issues like this by calling on lawmakers to have a sense of ethics and personal responsibility. We can also affect this, on a daily basis, beginning with our own hearts. Continuing with the hearts of our children. We can take a deep breath and free our own hearts from hatred. Don’t engage in or tolerate the spread of toxic talk in society. Speak up against it. Teach your children to do the same. Step away from our growing immunity to violence, fueled by video games, movies, and TV. Crosshair symbols on a political website may seem like humor, while feeding the toxicity in our culture.

As human beings, we are all connected. Change begins with a single word, a single choice, to step away from hatred and violence. If we each clear hate from our hearts, and speak up about this issue, even in individual conversations, perhaps our loving hearts can spark a healthier trend.

*If you want to get your own set of pocket charms, and live in Dallas, you can get your own set for only $10 at the Dallas Museum of Art gift shop. Or astute reader Karen of Grace in the Gray Areas (check it out) found them on Amazon.